


The Things We Do For Our Best Friends

by elder_macaroni



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Dysphoria, M/M, its basically michael in the bathroom but w trans michael, tw: transphobic language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-03 12:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10967577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elder_macaroni/pseuds/elder_macaroni
Summary: In which Jeremy's SQUIP convinces Michael he isn't normal.(trigger warning: transphobic language, ftm character who is forced to dress as a girl)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is kinda me projecting onto michael so sorry about that lmao  
> also this will probably have a part two!! and sorry if its a lil rough, i wrote it at 3 am

Michael stumbled into the bathroom, locking the door behind him and sinking to the floor. It wasn't difficult to get into the party without anyone noticing that he hadn't been invited, but it was extremely hard to navigate the crowded house without freaking out. All those bodies, pushing against him - Michael shivered at the thought. He couldn't have anyone finding out about the binder that was always hidden underneath his signature hoodie, so crowded parties were a recipe for disaster. 

Michael sighed, using the sink to drag himself up to his feet and splashing water on his face. As his heartbeat started to slow, he climbed into the bathtub, deciding to wait until the party ended to leave rather than face the sweltering heat of people mashing together again. 

Before he could relax, the door banged open and revealed a familiar face. Jeremy strode into the bathroom, looking cool as hell and way above Michael's social status. Unfortunately for Jeremy, Michael could see past the cool facade, which allowed him to note the underlying nerves in Jeremy's eyes. The squip must be off, then.

“Hey.” Michael stated flatly, grabbing Jeremy's leg. Jeremy, who hadn't seen him, jumped a little, but relaxed at the sight of his (former?) best friend's face.

“Holy shit dude, it's so good to see you.” Jeremy genuinely looked excited, and Michael felt a pang of anxiety stab his side. There was no way he could go off on his angry monologue now. It was obviously the squip ignoring him, not Jeremy.

Just as Jer opened his mouth, about to say more, an internal switch flicked and his mouth snapped shut. Michael saw the hidden nervousness disappear from Jeremy's eyes, and helplessly watched as the optic nerve blocking prepared to be initiated again (he had done his research, after all.)

However, Michael's best friend turned towards him slowly and smirked. His upturned lips looked sinister, and Michael instinctively recoiled. This evoked a rumbling chuckle from Jeremy - more specifically, the squip - and amusement flickered in his dead eyes.

“Look at you,” the squip snarled. “You're pathetic. You snuck into a party you weren't invited to, and decide to spend your time hiding in the bathtub? God.” It was getting harder and harder for Michael to see the creature in front of him as the squip - rather, every insult made the person in front of him look more like plain old Jeremy.

“And you know why you're by yourself in this bathroom? You have no friends, and you're too scared to dance in case people find out about your secret.” Panic flared up in Michael's chest, and he desperately tried to scramble away from the squip’s hateful stare. No, no, no-

“Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes. You dirty tranny.” 

A cry ripped out of Michael's throat, but he was no longer aware if it was him making sounds or if it was the squip taunting him. The noise of the party seemed to grow louder and louder, causing Michael to shrink in on himself. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, he didn't know where he was or what to do. He faintly heard Jeremy get up and leave, but he didn't dare look up to check and see if his ears were right. The fear of being met with a best friend who hated him overwhelmed everything.

He didn't know how long it had been, but eventually the panic swirling around his system subsided. Michael hoisted himself to his feet, looking in the mirror and seeing a face that was raw from crying. For the second time that evening, he splashed cold water on his face, trying to calm his mind and heart. But even though Michael's thoughts told him "you are a boy, you are valid", a tiny voice in the back of his head laughed, mocking him. Desperate to appease the nagging thoughts, he quickly unzipped his jacket. Underneath lay a plain black binder, and Michael shakily started to take it off. 

Rummaging in his bag, Michael pulled out a plain bra. He always had a bra wherever he went, just in case he met someone who he couldn’t be out to. He quickly put it on, not able to stand the sight of his exposed chest for a prolonged amount of time. He then slipped on his plain black shirt and put his jacket over it, making sure it was unzipped to reveal the curves he normally hid. Michael looked through the bathroom drawers, looking for the makeup that was sure to be hidden somewhere in the counter. Once he had found some, he set to work on looking, well, normal. After a few minutes of eyeliner and blush, a face that Michael hadn't seen in years was staring back at him. He looked feminine again.

The voice in the back of his head laughed, telling him that this was what he really was - a girl. Still shaking, Michael tried to shush the voice as he placed his binder inside his bag. With a pained look into the mirror, he opened the door, coming face to face with an angry Jenna Roland, who was shouting at him for taking so long. He fired back something about being on his period, and she shut up instantly. 

If Michael had to be completely disgusted with his appearance in order to win back Jeremy, then so be it. He was getting his friend back. As he took a deep breath and surveyed the crowd, he willed his shaking hands to stop. He was doing this for Jeremy. And with that, he moved forwards into the throbbing crowd.


	2. The Things We Can't Do For Our Best Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael faces the party.
> 
> (tw - anxiety attack, parties, dysphoria, panic, foreshadowed non-con sex but nothing actually happens, crying, abandonment, hateful thoughts)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! I finally updated this fic. I don't think this part was as good as the first one, but oh well. I might edit it later. It's also kinda short, so sorry about that.
> 
> ALSO! I know I said this fic would be 2 parts, but now it's going to be 3! So I'll try and get the third one up soon. (It'll have a happy ending, don't worry!)

Deep breaths and the thought of Jeremy were the only thing keeping Michael sane. Most people at the party were utterly wasted, meaning they had no idea who he was and they didn’t care anyways, but that did little to help the everlasting panic swelling in his gut. He passed peers who he saw everyday in the hallways - people who thought of him as a boy and nothing more. But here he was, curves and makeup, wandering through a party that he wasn’t even invited to in the first place. Michael began to collapse in on himself, regret starting to mix with anxiety and creating overall misery. The sounds of the party swirled around him, but he kept going through the crowd. Jeremy, Jeremy, his brain spoke the name as if repeating it would make the squip and Jeremy two separate entities. He entered room after room, searching for the tall, freckled boy and his head of curly hair.

Suddenly overcome by a dizzying feeling that left his head spinning, Michael grabbed the banister of the stairs and squeezed his eyes tight, trying hard to block out anything other than the thought of saving Jeremy. Yet again, he curled into a ball, not caring what the drunk people around him were whispering. They wouldn’t remember in the morning anyways.

A hand interrupted the shaking sobs wracking Michael’s body. He hadn’t even realized he had started to cry, but shock from the sudden touch stopped the flow of tears down his face. Looking up, he was met with the sight of a guy who he thought he faintly recognized, but didn’t know off the top of his head. The man smiled and held out his hand, presumably to offer to help Michael up. Still sniffling slightly, he tried to wipe away any tear stains and fix his (probably) smudged makeup. He shot a shaky smile towards the stranger, wondering why the hell he was helping Michael of all people. 

And then it hit him - he looked like a girl now. This guy was probably trying to get in his pants. 

Michael scrambled away, fighting the urge to gag. The panic in his chest was his only guide back to his safe haven upstairs, where he could sit in the bathtub and cry and no one would care (unless they had to pee, but they could go outside in the bushes if they were wasted enough - which they probably were.) Through some miracle, there was no line for the bathroom, so Michael ran inside and slammed the door, locking it immediately.

His body was moving on instinct, throwing the patched hoodie onto the ground and ripping off the black shirt. He was left staring at the feminine shape of his chest in the mirror, seeing someone who wasn’t him, but was at the same time. Some sick, twisted part of him refused to let him remove his bra and put on his binder, so Michael sank to his knees, sobbing too hard to question his own logic. He weakly grabbed his hoodie, which faintly smelled like Jeremy, and clutched it to his chest. He couldn’t even crawl far enough to sit in the bathtub instead of on the floor.

You’re pathetic. You have no friends.  
I can’t believe that you’re so weak that you can’t look like a girl for ten minutes to save your best friend’s life.

He was left wondering if the voices in his head would ever leave him alone.


End file.
